


Envy Vs. Kindness

by greenmtwoman



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Prophecy and Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:00:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26705623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenmtwoman/pseuds/greenmtwoman
Summary: Maggy the Frog has a prophecy for Brienne.  Sort of.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 11
Kudos: 66
Collections: Jaime x Brienne Week 2020





	Envy Vs. Kindness

**Author's Note:**

> For Day 2 of JB Week 2020! When I began writing this, I didn't remember that Cersei and Jaime were only ten when she heard the valonqar prophecy. At that point Brienne wasn't even born. So I changed the ages, which I'm allowed to do, and it's part of the fun! The twins are around 13 and Brienne is 12 or so, if it even matters.

Lannisport! It was the biggest city she had ever seen. Brienne leaned out the inn window and stared down the busy street. _So many people._ A woman looked up at her, smiling, and she hastily pulled back. Before she left Tarth her septa had told her how to behave. “You can’t help drawing attention but try not to shame your father by making a display of yourself. You’re lucky he’s taking you with him. Don’t embarrass him by what you do; your face is embarrassment enough.” _She's right; I’m lucky. He’s trying to console me, after…_

They’d travelled overland from the Stormlands to the Westerlands, her father meeting with lords and merchants, trying to form alliances and promote Tarth’s quarries and fisheries. Brienne had sat quietly, curtseyed awkwardly, spoken only when spoken to, blushed red, and endured many startled, amused and pitying looks. If Lord Selwyn also hoped to find another suitable betrothal for her, he had failed. _Maybe they all knew what Ser Ronnet said about me._

Lord Selwyn hadn’t insisted that she accompany him this evening, telling her to stay in their room at the inn. She didn’t want to remain cooped up. She felt restless and reckless; she’d been a such good girl for weeks now. Right outside the walls was the tourney ground. They’d missed the tournament, to her disappointment, but beside the tourney ground was a fair. She’d seen it as they rode in; her father had said they might go in few days… maybe. _He didn’t mean it, I could tell._ She made up her mind, threw her uncomfortable dress into the wardrobe, pulled on her old breeches and shoved her braid under a cap.

******************************

The fair swirled around her in a cacophony of noises, lights and smells. A man sent wheels of fire spinning toward the sky and caught them in his hands. A bear walked on its front paws, its back legs waving in the air. Men hooted while a woman displayed herself clad in nothing but paint and twining snakes. Dwarfs whacked each other with blunt swords. She paid a few coppers to watch a puppet show jerkily enact Aegon’s Conquest with carved dragons. She kept her fist tight around the one silver stag and the remaining coppers in her pocket. The silver stag had been sent all the way from the Wall in the far north by her Uncle Endrew, a member of the Night’s Watch. She had only met him once, but he always remembered her nameday.

Brienne hesitated in front of a stall selling painted wooden shields. “Any design you like,” the seller urged. “Painted while you wait, boy. Or prove your loyalty by choosing a lion of Lannister.” She shook her head. She was tempted, but she wouldn’t be able to hide a shield or explain to her father where she had gotten it. The tourney ground adjoined the fair and she stopped to watch a couple of squires sparring. They were slow and awkward. _I could beat those boys. I could beat them easily._ She wanted to challenge them, but they wouldn’t accept a challenge from a raggedy stranger. It was better to stay anonymous and unknown during her adventure. _Don’t make a display of yourself._

******************************

She bought a sausage on a stick and a honeycake, exactly the sort of greasy, sticky food she knew a lady didn’t eat. As she licked her fingers, three girls pushed rudely past her, full of assurance that the world belonged to them. They were a little older than she was, though she was taller and broader. One of them was plump and pink-cheeked, another had curly brown hair and blue eyes. The third was a slender, golden, green-eyed beauty. “Hurry up,” she commanded, and the other two giggled. They swept through the crowd as if it didn’t exist, and those they jostled pulled back apologetically, knocked aside by an invisible force.

They were the sort of girls Brienne envied bitterly and hated herself for envying. She knew what they were like without knowing them. They were secure in their beauty, their friendship and their position. _No one ever tells them that they’re ugly, clumsy or stupid. When they’re betrothed, they’re given roses, smiles and kisses, not sneers and insults._ They were girls who would soon be women. She was a girl who would soon be… what? _I could knock them down. But that wouldn’t be honorable. And what good would it do? I would still be me, and they would still despise me._

The brown-haired girl began jumping up and down, pointing, and all three moved toward a boy a little distance away. “Jaime!” brown-hair squealed, seizing his arm. The golden girl raised her eyebrows and looked irritated, and the plump girl peered shyly at him from behind the other two. He looked very much like golden-hair, enough alike that she thought they must be siblings. “Come with us!”

He shook his head impatiently and pointed toward the tourney grounds. “I’ve got better things to do.” He pulled his arm away and jogged off, giving them a wave back over his shoulder.

“You’re an idiot, Melara, and Jaime doesn’t know you exist,” gold-hair said, laughing.

******************************************

There was a brown and gray tent on the edge of the fairgrounds. It looked more permanent than the gaudy structures near it. A sign outside said, “Do You Dare to Know Your Future?” There was a faint glimmer of candlelight within. Brienne stopped. _Do I dare? Do I want to know?_ The envy was still biting at her; envy of those who moved through the world with confidence. Those who knew what they were and where they belonged. Why would those happy girls worry about the future? _They know their futures will be good._ She still had the silver stag in her pocket. If she spent it here, she wouldn’t have to hide or explain a purchase.

A woman stood in the door of the tent. Had she been there before? “Are you looking for me, my lady?”

Brienne looked over her shoulder, but no one else was near. “I… Me? I’m not…”

“A girl? A maid? Highborn? The woman’s voice was amused, but not unkind.

Brienne’s feet moved forward. “Who are you?”

“Maggy is what they call me here. It will do.” She was shorter than Brienne, almost as wide as tall, and ugly. Brienne didn’t mind ugly people. They were more comfortable than beautiful people. Maggy’s eyes were yellow; Brienne thought they were wise, like the eyes of an owl. “Maegi is what I was once. Once I was beautiful. Now I’m ugly. Once I could heal, kill, and enchant. Now I tell fortunes to the foolish for a little silver.”

“I’ll go. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“I didn’t say that you are foolish. What do you wish to know?”

Brienne stood silent. She was embarrassed. More than that, she was ashamed. _Ser Ronnet and his rose. Septa Roelle’s words. My own mirror._

“You want to know if you will ever be loved,” said Maggy. “Mayhaps you are foolish after all. Give me your silver and we’ll see.”

Brienne nearly left, but she did want to know. She pulled her silver stag from her pocket. The interior of the tent was dark and hazy with incense. It smelled of cloves, cinnamon, pepper, nutmeg and other things she couldn’t identify. It was warm. “Will anyone ever think that I’m… worth loving?”

Maggy bit the coin and gestured her to a stool, took both her hands in a strong grip and raised them to her face. Her skin was like soft old leather. “You have a father who loves you.”

“That’s not what I meant.” _Must she make me say it?_ The incense was making her head swim, but it was a pleasant feeling. She remembered something she’d been told about fortunetellers. “Do you need to taste my blood?”

The old woman snorted. “No. That’s a trick to impress those who need to be impressed. You don’t. It’s your heart I’m tasting.” She kept one of Brienne’s hands pressed to her face and put the other on Brienne’s chest.

Her heart was hammering. “I’m learning how to fight. They laugh at me, but I’m good at it. I know I am. But someday… will I be loved… as a man loves a maid?”

“Yes. No. Mayhaps.” The yellow owl-eyes blinked.

“That isn’t an answer.”

“You say you know how to fight. There are many kinds of fights, and prophecy is a sword without a hilt. There is no safe way to grasp it. Maggy’s yellow eyes stared into Brienne’s blue ones. Maggy’s thumb rubbed back and forth, back and forth over Brienne’s palm. Brienne’s eyes closed. The old woman’s voice came from a distance, soft and mesmerizing. “Your road is hard and narrow, girl. You have a man’s strength and a maiden’s heart. Prophecy tells what may be. What is, is what you make it. You have already glimpsed one who can love you if you let yourself believe it. But it will not be who you expect. It will not be when or where or how you expect.”

“Is what you tell me true?”

“True? It’s one truth. Prophecies are all true if you believe them. Or nonsense if you don’t.” She dropped Brienne’s hands. “I’m tired. Go now, child.”

Her eyes opened and Maggy’s yellow gaze held her again for a moment. Then the old woman closed her own eyes. “Go.”

******************************

 _Yes. No. Mayhaps. Was that worth a silver stag?_ She wandered aimlessly, thinking, no longer interested in the activity of the fair. It was growing quieter; she needed to get back to the inn before her father returned. She was walking toward the gate when a running figure crashed into her. She staggered and grabbed hold to keep them both from falling. She saw a tear-streaked round face and wide, panicked eyes. _She’s one of the girls I noticed before._ “Are you all right?”

“No! Let go of me! I’m not supposed to talk to strange boys.”

Brienne released the other girl. “I’m not a boy.”

“You’re dressed like one.” She gave a hiccupping sob.

“Never mind that. My name is Brienne. What are you so scared of?”

“Are you really a girl? My name’s Jeyne.” She started crying again.

“Shh. Shh.” Brienne found herself stroking Jeyne soothingly as if she was a spooked horse. “Yes, I’m a girl. Can I help?”

“We went to see the fortuneteller. Cersei and Melara and me. She was awful. She was ugly. She frightened me.”

“Ohhh. I saw her, too. She was strange, but I didn’t think she was frightening.”

Jeyne’s sobs were quieting. “I did. Cersei says I’m an idiot and afraid of everything.”

Brienne felt a stab of sympathy. _Maybe this one isn’t so lucky after all._ “I’m sure you’re not,” she said awkwardly.

“Cersei wants to know if she’ll marry the prince. Melara wants to know if she’ll marry Jaime. I didn’t want to be there at all. What did you want to know?”

“It wasn’t important.” _Yes. No. Mayhaps._ “She didn’t tell me anything, really.”

“Jeyne! There you are, you stupid thing. Where did you go?” Jeyne’s two companions were back. The golden girl with the imperious voice must be Cersei, and the curly brown girl Melara. Melara was pale. Cersei was scowling.

“Jeyne was upset,” Brienne explained. “The fortuneteller scared her. I was trying to help. Are the two of you all right?”

Cersei stared at her. “Who are you? You’re as ugly as that old witch. Go away.”

“What happened?” Jeyne wanted to know.

“Nothing,” snapped Cersei. “She’s a hideous, smelly crone. I’m going to have Father whip her and burn down her tent.”

“Don’t,” whispered Melara. “She might…”

“You keep quiet.”

Brienne found her voice. “It’s not right to punish Maggy just because you didn’t like what she said.”

“I told you to go away, ugly boy. Or I’ll have my brother beat you.”

“She’s a girl,” Jeyne said. “She’s just trying to help.”

“If she’s a girl, that’s even worse. We don’t need her help.” Cersei seized Jeyne’s arm and dragged her away.

Jeyne looked forlornly back over her shoulder at Brienne and mouthed, “Thank you.”

Brienne smiled at her. She felt a little better. By the time she reached the gate the other girls had disappeared, but fair goers were streaming back into the city. The crush brought the crowd to a standstill, and she was startled to find herself next to the golden boy she thought might be Cersei’s brother.

“Were you here for the tourney today?” he asked idly as they waited to go through.

“No. My father and I didn’t arrive in time.” She was wary, but he didn’t seem hostile. There were gold lions embroidered on his jacket.

He smiled companionably. “The standard of combat wasn’t very high, but it was still fun. I went back tonight to talk with some of the knights; they had good tales to tell. Better than going to the fair with my sister and her friends.” He wrinkled his nose in comic disgust. “A good night to you, good fellow.” He nodded and headed to the left, up the main street.

Brienne turned toward the inn. _Yes? No? Mayhaps?_ She had no idea what it meant. Probably she never would.

**Author's Note:**

> I liked the idea that Brienne's perception of Maggy might be rather different than Cersei's.


End file.
